Sandor Navie
Sandor in Varros'Kal "My god!" said Sandor to Maker, "does anyone around here know how to run a profitable business?" They were leaving their sixth artificer shop and yet another shopkeeper who refused to take a few helpful pointers on how to properly describe their wares. "The blasted fellow clearly had no idea the first thing about their guns - but apparently 'the sticker price speaks for itself', what a load of malarkey. I ran a better business than that, and I didn't even know what I was doing half the time!" Maker looked up at Sandor and fixed him with a significant stare, but Sandor was still fuming at the remarks of the last shopkeep. "Sir, the weapons come as is, no guarantees", Sandor continued in a snooty mocking voice mimicking the shopkeeper's city accent, then continued in an angry voice, "If you're not ready to stand behind any product you sell, you might as well stand in front of them! That's my opinion!" Maker continued to pad along beside Sandor, with Robin taking up his typical position atop the giant metal dog's shoulders. Robin's entire body was motionless, even amidst the sway of Maker's gait, and between the giant dog and the glaring shoebill, Sandor was receiving a wide berth on the city street. Suddenly, Robin took off overhead, startling Sandor out of his monologue. Sandor wasn't surprised, he assumed that Robin had probably spotted some other robins overhead, or perhaps wanted to get a view of the city from the sky. In the meantime, though, Sandor and Maker stopped in the street and watched him go. When Sandor looked down, he saw that Maker was leading the way now. "Where are we off to now, Maker?" Sandor asked, not particularly expecting a reply. Maker clearly had something in mind though. They trod down some side streets and were soon near the inn again. Maker stopped before an overgrown garden, carelessly tended to by some of the nearby inhabitants, but a relatively empty lot. Sandor hadn't noticed it before, but it seemed to be a good sized lot with no real owner. Several plants there had overripe fruit and the air was sweet with a scattering of flowers. While unorganized, Sandor could tell that there was a garden growing there, but the land didn't seem to be a park or part of someone else's property. There was an older woman on her knees, white hair flowing down her back, working on a small part of the garden with several bright blue flowers growing. Sandor walked up to the woman and asked "Excuse me, do you own this land?". The woman gave a little jump, startled, and as she turned around Sandor noticed she was a gnome, and not necessarily old just yet. While her hair was white and she had wrinkles on her skin, she wasn't more than 250 years old. She gave Sandor a kindly smile, "Oh it's always nice to see another gnome - and you're a young one! Exploring the city?" Sandor flushed slightly - after spending the past three weeks or so with his young companions (and so long away from the gnomish areas of his home city), he'd forgotten how often gnomes treated him like a child. It didn't seem like she meant it condescendingly though, so he pushed forward, "Yes, my other travelers and I are staying down the street at the Hook and Line, and we were looking around for some new gear." The gnome woman gave Sandor a hug saying "Well I'm Dorros, and if your friends want any refreshments, my husband Oruhim owns the bar next door. First pint half off tonight!" Sandor looked in the direction she was pointing. The bar next door looked clean and well cared for, all wood surfaces polished and the windows clear and clean - not at all the kind of bar Zara seemed to like. He looked back to the gnome, "Actually, I was curious about this plot of land. Do you and your husband own it?" Dorros laughed, "Good heavens no, darling. the prices of lots have only gone up. When my husband and I arrived here, we can't have been older than you. We bought the bar from the old man who used to run it - wasn't cheap back then either. We've thought of buying this lot and expanding the bar into an inn, but we just can't afford it. No, the city owns the land, ever since the woodcrafter's shop caught fire back... oh, thirty years ago or so. These days I sometimes come over and do a little gardening, when the bar isn't too busy." Dorros looked a little uneasy with those last words, and Sandor noticed that the bar was pretty empty, despite it being early evening. "A last question then," Sandor said, thinking about lovely the neighborhood looked, and what sweet people lived next door, and what a wonderfully central place the city was in. "How much was this plot, when you last looked in about it?" Dorros's face twisted into a sad grimice. "They were asking for eight thousand gold pieces when we asked about it, twenty years ago. It's probably higher by now." "Eight thousand?" Sandor asked in disbelief. That'd take years to save up for. Not to mention building the shop! But Sandor couldn't help but imagine it around him. Tall onyx doorway, great stone storeshelves (sturdy no matter what an unruly customer might do), a countertop of dark obsidian etched with glyphs and wards, ebony doorways as dark as night, and glowing candles lining the shop in warm, flickering, inconsistent light. The shop rose up, deep, pure, clean, organized. It would fit so well beside the homely bar on one side with it's clean wooden beams and soft glowing lantern, just lit in the setting sun, and the quiet glass blower next door with his furnace of bright orange. Sandor sighed, and the vision faded away, leaving only the unruly garden with its bright blue flowers, and Dorros, smiling sadly at him. Sandor looked to her and said "Well, I don't have the pockets for that one, but I do have enough for a drink next door!" She laughed and called out to the stout gnome who had just lit the lantern out front, "Oruhim, we have a customer! What did you say your name was again, dear?" Category:AR Party Category:Player Characters